


Flash Point

by bluefrogsbestfrogs



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Dark, Dom/sub, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Logan is kind of a jerk in this, Smut, maybe he's not so bad after all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-12-24 21:03:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12020952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluefrogsbestfrogs/pseuds/bluefrogsbestfrogs
Summary: Over the course of several months, three very different nights will define Rogue's future.





	1. Spark

**Author's Note:**

> flash point (n)  
> 1\. something that causes violence or conflict to flare up  
> 2\. a critical moment beyond which a situation will inevitably erupt into violence

It was the missions involving labs that were the worst.   
  
Not because of the horrific nature of experiments they saw. Not because of the violent deaths that resulted from their actions. But because she had no relief from the sick darkness that inevitably followed.   
  
Tonight had been especially brutal. Rogue tried to shake off the sights, sounds, and scents of the lab, but she felt the darkness clinging to her mind, like a sticky sick thing. There had been children tonight. Scores of them. Bodies mutilated. Eyes empty. Screams ringing down the cold barren corridors as the team moved through the building, trying to save those they could, and ease the suffering of those who were beyond help.  
  
She felt a shudder of remembered horror as the sounds of their terror echoed in her ears, and felt the memories of one small girl ghost through her as she shut her eyes tight. She’d come across her at the end of her third floor sweep in a tiny, filthy cell. Light brown eyes had stared back at her own, their former glossy sheen deadened with pain. The girl’s body was open and raw. She was no longer capable of struggling and Rogue had broken at the sight of her. She soothed the small girl as best she could, stroking her golden blood-matted hair away from her face, making soothing noises at the back of her throat. The girl had begged her to help, all without making a sound. Rogue knew what she longed for, and knew that she was one of only two members on the team who would give her what she wanted.   
  
She’d continued to mutter soft, nonsensical words to the girl as she brought one leather-bound glove to her teeth. After a quick tug, she felt the cold stale air of the cell brush against her naked skin.  
  
It had only taken a moment. The girl was nearly gone anyway, and her desire to be free of her pain helped to speed up the process. She lasted less than five seconds; her mind and body eager to be rid of the pain in which they’d found themselves confined by for years.  
  
The girl’s memories thrust into her mind, a dark blur of horror, and Rogue felt the small glimmer of her mutation flow through her veins. The girl had been a feral leonine creature, and the glimmer of her gifts had blaze briefly through her body. Her sight and other senses had been horrifically magnified as she’d swept the rest of the lab with the team, her heart thumping wildly, her blood struggling to contain the emotions of the girl she’d helped past her pain.  
  
Now, the team was unusually silent on the flight back to the mansion; the mood tonight downright fucking grim. Looking around, Rogue saw Kitty rocking slightly in her seat, Bobby’s concerned eye roving over her, offering his hand in comfort. Kitty took it and the two of them shared a glance that forced her to look away. It had been years since Rogue had been with Bobby, and she didn’t begrudge them their comfort. It was just seeing that raw emotion between the two of them, knowing they would share the comfort of each other’s bodies later to smooth over the heinous acts they’d witnessed, and she would have nobody, that caused her pain.  
  
Even the new guy, Remy, seemed withdrawn after the night’s work, and him usually so vivacious and flirty. Rogue saw Jubilee eying him as she quietly popped her gum, and he looked up from his hands as he returned her look with a smooth grin. There was another pair for the evening. Rogue sighed and looked away from them, feeling a restless energy not entirely associated with the feral girl’s instincts.  
  
Storm had finally begun their descent and Rogue found herself anxious to land and to get away from the rest of the team. She longed for the solace of a hot shower and the stiff pull of bourbon against her lips.  
  
The rest of the team disbanded quickly after ‘Ro landed. A look here, a touch there. There was no need for a debriefing tonight and it was enough to drive Rogue fucking batshit crazy. Everyone else would have a release. And unless she fancied rubbing herself to an empty orgasm over and over until her slick and abused flesh couldn’t take anymore, Rogue would have to find her release elsewhere.   
  
She glanced quickly at Logan as they deplaned, and he growled quietly as she met his gaze before he headed off to the men’s locker room. She knew he had a hard time with the labs too, and wondered what he would do to ease the strain of their night. She suddenly wished that she could talk to him like she used to. Before the events of Alcatraz, before she’d taken the cure. She closed her eyes as she longed for the closeness they used to share. But that time was over. She’d come back to the X-Men several years ago, her powers having returned within just a few short months after the injection at Worthington laboratories. The team she’d known was gone. Logan was gone, lost in his grief over a woman who would never love him like he loved her. A woman who’d nearly destroyed the entire fucking world. Rogue felt the familiar burn of anger as she thought of Jean’s selfishness when it’d come to Logan. What a fucking  _bitch_.  
  
Rogue shook her head to clear the thought of Jean from her mind. She didn’t want to think of that selfish cow anymore after what she’d done to her family. Rogue had thought the cure would allow her to finally be free to engage in a physical relationship. But it turned out that her skin hadn’t been the thing that had held her back from herself. She’d wanted more than the shallow feeling of a quick and hot encounter, and none of the boys she’d met in the two months she’d been touchable had been remotely tempting.  
  
She showered quickly and grinned darkly as a thought came to her. She’d felt a violence within her tonight that needed to be appeased; a violence which she wouldn’t be able to satisfy by taking a few shots of bourbon and touching herself alone in the dark.  
  
  
_______________  
  
  
  
The bar was just as she expected and exactly what she needed. Dark. Smoky. Smelling of cigarettes, booze, and the desperate tang of humans. They wanted to feel, to fight, to fuck, to belong. And deep down, Rogue knew she wasn’t any different.   
  
After returning to the mansion, she’d quickly showered and dressed, frantic to escape the confines and boundaries of the mansion, knowing how many of her fellow teammates would be dealing with the events of the evening in a way in which she could not engage. Though fading, the girl’s gifts were still churning beneath her skin, and Rogue was desperate to flee before the sounds and scents of lovers met her senses.   
  
Black knee-high boots, black leather pants, a forest green corset, and black opera length gloves adorned her figure as she strode into the bar and asked for a double bourbon neat with a beer chaser. The overweight bartender merely raised one eyebrow at her request, but handed over her beverages of choice. Rogue had been a frequent enough patron over the last year that he knew when to get her what she wanted and leave her alone. She ignored the stares of the men who watched her toss back the alcohol. The violence she felt inside her would not be appeased by the weak willed men at the bar. She wanted brutality. Wanted a bloody resolution to the darkness she’d seen tonight. It was the only way she’d be able to sleep.  
  
After another two rounds of drinks, Rogue heard the announcer call the first fighters to the cage. She smiled darkly, feeling the first buzz of violence simmer in her blood, warming her, along with the bourbon.   
  
She watched round after round of fighting, the chain link cage rattling with the force of the opponents blows. She thought she might even put herself in the ring for a round or two. Maybe the pummeling of hard flesh was exactly the balm to the itch underneath her skin needed. She motioned the bartender for another shot and swiftly drew in her breath as her eyes skittered over a familiar profile. The man strolled into the bar, dark jeans plastered to his muscular thighs, dark leather boots striding across the peanut shell strewn floor. His hips were adorned in that same goddamn silver belt buckle, broad shoulders encased in their usual wife beater and blue flannel combination.   
  
_Fuck_ , she thought darkly, her mind already prone toward violence.  _Fucking hell! Why did he have to come here of all places?_  
  
She could already see the draw of his magnetism at work. The entire damn female population of the place had practically started coming in their panties the moment he’d walked inside. He knew it too, the smug bastard. The telltale twitch of a nostril and the upturned smirk of his mouth told her that much. Rogue cursed her temporarily heightened senses as she turned her back to him. She was in no mood to see any more of the Wolverine’s conquests tonight. She had her own needs to be concerned with.   
  
Three rounds of fighting later and Rogue was increasingly frustrated. The bouts tonight had been lackluster, the violence simmering just below the surface without a proper release, the combatants being just unskilled enough to prevent proper brutality or adequate bloodshed. The crowd was feeling it too, the usual bloodlust that normally boiled over on a Saturday night had lessened slightly, and the bar, which had previously been packed with the desperate scents of humans, had lessened as the promise and thrill of violence dissipated. Rogue, too, had felt the potential satisfaction of the evening slowly drain away. Her body was still itching, and her mood, already grim, had only continued to darken with the lack of proper release. And it had not been made better by observing Logan’s behavior.   
  
After recognizing his familiar stride, Rogue had withdrawn to a corner booth with high walls at the back of the bar. It was the perfect spot to observe the rest of the crowd and cage without being seen. She’d watched as Logan had ordered his usual whiskey from the bar and then started scanning the crowd for an appropriate conquest. She saw his eyes settle darkly on a petite blond with green eyes. Rogue couldn’t help but snort at his selection. It seemed he had developed a certain type lately. Small, seemingly sweet and innocent. Alone. But after quickly scenting of the air, Rogue knew the blond was hardly the image of purity she presented. Had Logan noticed it too? Was that why he’d chosen her? Did her prefer the ones that looked innocent and then fucked and sucked with the intensity of an experienced woman?  
  
Logan had strolled over to the blond, who’d been feigning interest in her drink, come up behind her, leaned down, and whispered something in her ear. She’d uttered a flirtatious giggle in response and Rogue had rolled her eyes as she tried not to stare at their ridiculous behavior. Logan had signaled the bartender for another round of drinks for each of them, and begun a slow teasing of flesh as he ran his fingers along the line of exposed skin between the blond’s shirt and jeans. His hands moved boldly to her tight jean-clad thigh and began running from knee to hip flexor, teasing her inner thighs with firmer brushes of his thumb. Rogue saw the woman shiver in response, her eyes dilating with pleasure. Rogue gripped her bourbon glass tighter as she watched him nuzzle, taste, and tease the blond bar bunny’s neck. She could just make out the quiet growling sounds he made in her ear and Rogue clenched her jaw in annoyance, even as she could not look away.   
  
She was suddenly furious with Logan. With the whole fucking night’s outcome. She’d come here to find some kind of release in the violence of the fights. He could find his release in a variety of physical outlets, while she could not, being bound by the limitations of her skin. Soon Rogue found herself both relieved and disappointed as Logan led the blond away from the high top table out the back door, one hand gripping her hip possessively. Rogue glanced at the time on her phone. Less than five minutes. Christ, he was fast. She wondered idly what he would make the blond want to do to him. What he’d do to her in turn.   
  
She shook her head away from those thoughts. The room was beginning to blur pleasantly at the edges and Rogue, though still frustrated and edgy, began to relax. Without the distraction of watching Logan fondle the blond right in front of her, she could give her full attention over to the booze and the bloodshed in the cage. The last several rounds had finally begun to show the promise of soothing the violence underneath her skin. The fighters were tougher, more experienced, and Rogue found her body reacting involuntarily to the steady flow of violence, pain and sweat the permeated the air of the dank bar interior. Her insides loosened and became fluid. She knew now that if she saw one more decent fight, she’d have a modicum of peace tonight.  
  
The announcer called the final round of fighters to the cage, and Rogue jerked her head up from the beer between her hands in surprise. Then, she realized. Of course he would be fighting tonight. She’d been naive in assuming his only release would be the physical closeness of using another’s body. But she should have realized their day’s work would require more than a quick fuck in an alley. Logan, after all, had both the man and the animal to deal with. She berated herself for not noticing his return from the alley. Glancing around, she noticed the blond was no longer in sight.  _Good_ , she thought darkly. The last thing she needed was to smell Logan’s release on another woman. It was bad enough that she could smell Logan at all. Tonight, his usually soothing signature cigar smoke, woods, and leather had the opposite effect on Rogue. She was anxious and desperate for her own release from the misery she’d taken into her today. But she recognized the twinge of jealousy for what it was and hated that he still caused this reaction in her after so many years. She was tempted to depart before the last fight began, but she knew she wouldn’t. She wanted to see the Wolverine pummeling flesh tonight.  
  
She settled in deeper into the booth and set the beer down in favor of another sip of bourbon. Anticipation and excitement fluttered through her at the prospect of watching Wolverine in the cage. It had been a long time since she’d witnessed his unfettered violence, and she was looking forward to every bloody minute of it.   
  
As he tugged off his flannel and wife beater, Rogue allowed her eyes to rove over the muscled expanse of his chest. Fuck. He was absolutely fucking cut. The thick muscles of his shoulders and arms flexed as he strode over to the cage, the muscles of his back bunching as he twisted himself into the opening. His thick thighs moving effortlessly as he pushed up onto the raised platform. It wasn’t often she allowed herself to enjoy the sight of his body and Rogue felt her insides loosen again, a bolt of arousal hitting her, deep in the pit of her belly at the sight of his skin.  
  
The fight began, and Rogue could see that Wolverine was surprisingly well-matched by his opponent. The other fighter was broad and thick, also well-muscled. His nose was crooked after having been broken several times. Black haired and tattooed with several scars littering his skin, he was certainly no stranger to fighting. There were no gentle test swings in this fight, no feeling out of the other’s strength. Wolverine opened the fight with a hard punch to the man’s jaw, and Rogue was certain she heard the slight crack of a bone being fractured. The dark haired man only smiled though and shook his head briefly as he retaliated with a hard series of hits aimed at Wolverine’s side.  
  
Wolverine blocked all but one of the blows and let out a snarl of rage as the other man’s fist connected with his lower ribs. The man groaned with pain though at the feeling of the adamantium-reinforced bone and Wolverine took advantage of his momentary distraction. He roared as he threw his opponent into the fence and issued a series of brutal kicks to the man’s vulnerable stomach before the man twisted up and away from the kicks. The shocking display of brutality lit up her insides with pleasure, as she felt the violence within her ease for the first time since they’d entered the lab. Thighs clenched together, she couldn’t suppress a groan of pure longing as she took in Wolverine’s heaving chest and the lip turned up in a snarl. His head jerked in the cage and his nostrils flared in her direction. The golden eyes flashed at her a moment in recognition before he turned back to his opponent and pummeled the shit out of him. His body moved in perfect rhythm, point and counterpoint to the other man’s blows. He effortlessly blocked a punch to his gut and whirled around to force his fists repeatedly into the other man’s kidneys.   
  
The fight was over quickly after that. The blood and sweat flew free in the cage, both fighters landing several brutal hits, but ultimately, it was the Wolverine who dominated. The other fighter had tried to go for a low roundhouse kick, but had miscalculated the speed at which Wolverine was capable. Wolverine had crouched down, his muscled arms flying out to catch him - fucking  _catch_  him - in mid kick and had thrown the other man face down into the ring, the crack of his nose being broken yet again signaling the end of the fight.  
  
The crowd had responded to the escalating violence on display and the energy in the bar was wild now, tumultuous. Rogue knew now was the time for her to leave. She didn’t want any kind of confrontation with Wolverine, not after he’d heard the moan issuing from her throat, raw with need. She tossed back the last of her drink and left her booth just as Wolverine was exiting the cage. His skin was spattered with blood and sweat, his chest heaving with the remnants of brutality. He seemed to be searching her out, and Rogue was glad she’d pressed herself into the crowd away from her booth before he could spot her. Rogue noticed a lithe red-haired woman whose color was obtained from a bottle rather than nature, stumble up to him as he exited the cage. Her hands instantly covering the sweaty expanse of his stomach, leaning in to rub herself like a cat in heat.   
  
Rogue snorted in disgust. She wasn’t interested in seeing anyone else rub themselves against Wolverine, let alone some redhead. He obviously didn’t mind though and immediately placed a hand at the back of her neck, pressing her closer to him, lip upturned in a feral snarl of pleasure.   
  
She headed out the side door, slamming the energy of the bar behind her, and took in several deep breaths of the clear and cool night air. Her back was to the brick wall of the alley and her hands shook slightly as she closed her eyes against the feelings roiling in her gut. Desire, longing, and still, the edge of violence. She felt her need slick between her thighs as she’d walked through the bar, and clenched her fists at her side to prevent herself from easing the throbbing right here in the fucking alleyway.   
  
Rogue’s head was spinning slightly and she realized she’d had more than a few drinks tonight and there was no way she could drive home. She let out a sigh of annoyance. She really hadn’t meant to get this drunk. She fumbled at her pocket for her phone, and thumbed open an app to request a ride. The closest driver was twenty-one minutes away. Great. She could do that. No problem.   
  
She inhaled slowly through her nose as she rested against the coolness of the brick wall, letting it seep into her over-heated skin. She tried not to replay Wolverine’s brutal display of violence over in her mind. Tried not to picture herself in the cage with him instead, trading blows, the hits becoming harder, the blood and sweat flying through the air, reaching a critical peak as a hit changed to a caress. A kick changed course to wrap around his torso dragging him closer. The harsh and desperate feeling of teeth and tongue against her as she rocked her hips into the hardness between her legs. A quiet moan issued from between her closed lips and she couldn’t help the hand that moved up to cup one breast as she felt the aching emptiness spread inside her.  
  
She jerked her head back away from the brick as her ears twitched. Her eyes flew open, pupils dilated wide to take in as much light as possible as she scanned the alley for the source of the noise. There it was again. A giggle followed by a low growl. The soft scrape of fabric against smooth skin. Not even the rushing of blood in her ears could block out the quiet sounds of passion. And there was no mistaking the source of those sounds either. Not when she had the temporary gift of the girl’s senses.  
  
_Oh, God. Run now. Run run run run!_  Her brain screamed at her. She couldn’t witness this. Not now. Not ever. She had the imaginations and memories of five different men in her brain, she didn’t need any additional fodder to fuel her desperate desires. But she was frozen to the spot. Unable to move as the unmistakable sounds of desire edged closer to her position. She was partially hidden by a pickup truck parked in the alley, in blatant disregard to the NO PARKING signs that littered the narrow passageway, but there was no way out of the alley that didn’t involve walking right past Wolverine. And that was the last thing she wanted to do.   
  
Moving slowly and soundlessly, she reached back behind her to gasp at the door knob from the side exit. It didn’t budge. It was locked. She clenched her jaw in anger as she realized she was trapped. Cornered. The first lesson of Basic Combat Techniques 101 flashed in her mind and Rogue nearly groaned in disgust. She had been careless and allowed herself to become blocked in an enclosed space. She had no choice but to wait them out. She clenched her eyes shut as the thought of fast and hard sex with Wolverine blazed through her thoughts.  
  
The couple was illuminated only by the shaft of moonlight overhead. But Rogue had no problem seeing the power and energy and violence radiating off him. The thrill of the fight was just the beginning for Wolverine. He needed to round out the evening with physical domination of a different sort. The blond had only been a prelude. The fight, an intermission. The finale was yet to come.   
  
Rogue watched as he crowded the woman backward into the hardness of the bricks, his face bent at her neck, biting and tasting her skin. Her hands roved freely over his back, clenching and grasping at the firm naked flesh and Rogue felt one hand twitch in response, unable to repress the desperate sense of longing to rake her nails along the same muscled expanse. His hips thrust against the woman’s belly, and Rogue fought the urge to rock her own hips in response and bit back a moan as she saw Wolverine run his hands up to roughly thumb over the woman’s distended nipples through her low cut shirt.   
  
Wolverine had moved back away from the wall and twisted around so that his back was now against the brick. The woman mewled discontentedly in her throat, unhappy at the exposed feeling her new position forced on her. But she stopped her complaining as Wolverine moved his hands to his belt buckle and freed himself from the confines of his jeans.  
  
Rogue drew in a deep breath that was masked only by the girl’s echoing sigh of pleasure. She couldn’t unsee the sight in front of her, couldn’t look away. Christ, he was enormous. Long, thick, and pulsing with need. She could see pearly drops leaking from the tip and she felt her mouth water at the sight. God, she wanted to be the one on her knees in front of him, tasting him. Causing his hips to buck with his release as she swallowed him deeper, her mouth surrounding his spasms of pleasure. Pleasure that he found in  _her_  mouth.  
  
She didn’t want to listen. Didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to smell. The thick scent of their arousal and hers was already clouding her mind and the woman was dropping to her knees in front of Wolverine, eager hands and mouth ready to accept him into her warmth. Rogue took a step forward away from the wall at her back, determined to swallow the sting of humiliation and leave before things spiraled any further out of her control.   
  
“Don’t you fuckin’ move.”   
  
The command in his voice was unmistakable. The words electrified the air surrounding Rogue as both she and the redhead froze. Her heart was beating like a trip hammer, but she didn’t move further. Eyes wild and wide, she looked up at Wolverine’s face and felt her stomach drop through to the dirty alley floor. He was looking right at her. Golden eyes glinting back at her in the dark. Challenging her. Her mouth was dry, and she struggled to swallow, but she didn’t look away, didn’t move another step away from the protection of the brick wall.  
  
Rogue saw the girl look up at him in confusion and he glanced back down to her running one hand through her hair to grip her roughly by the neck.   
  
“You’ll do what I tell ya to do,  _when_  I tell ya to do it.”  
  
The girl practically purred in response to the authority in his voice and Rogue clenched her jaw as she tried not to do the same.  
  
But the noise the girl had made wasn’t enough to appease the animal and he shook her roughly as he demanded a verbal response.  
  
“Got it, baby?”  
  
The girl moaned her acquiescence with a breathy, “Yes.”  
  
Rogue found herself unable to prevent herself from nodding her own head back in response, and heard Wolverine’s grunt of approval at her actions.  
  
She waited, breathlessly, for the next command. She was in it now. He knew she was here, and it wasn’t something that could be undone. She prepared herself to hold on for whatever came next.  
  
“Relax a little,” he growled at the girl, who was still perched up on her knees at his feet in anticipation of taking him into her mouth. She complied and sank back on her heels. Rogue obeyed by resting her back against the brick wall behind her.  
  
“Good girl,” he rumbled as he moved one dark hand to fist over the erection jutting out from his jeans.  
  
Rogue couldn’t help it. She licked her lips in response and swore she felt the rumbling in his chest run through her as though he’d physically touched her.  
  
“Now. Leave your shirt on. But I wanna see those pretty tits starin’ up at me while you touch yerself,” he ordered.  
  
The girl nodded eagerly, the palpitations of her pulse beating faster now as she hefted her breasts over the low neckline of her shirt. And Rogue was ashamed that she felt the same echo beat beneath her skin as she reached up and followed suit. The corset she was wearing made it easy for her to reach in and lift up her breasts in offering to the night. Her nipples beaded instantly in the cool night air and the round firm flesh felt warm in her gloved hands.  
  
“Like this?” the girl asked him as she moved her hands up to cup both breasts, lightly thumbing over her nipples and Rogue copied her movements without question.   
  
“Yeah, baby. Just like that,” he growled. “Now, pinch those pink nipples for me. Hard. So that it hurts ya a little, but feels real good all the same.”  
  
Her insides were liquefied as she found herself helpless to resist, and she inhaled sharply at the pleasure/pain of the rough feeling of leather against her nipples.   
  
“Fuck, baby. That’s it,” He said as he continued to pump over his cock. He looked directly at Rogue as he paused for a moment, bringing one of his hands up to his lips, he motioned the tugging off of gloves with his teeth. It was just subtle enough of a motion, appearing as though he was spitting into his palm to further lubricate his firm strokes. But Rogue recognized it for what it really was.  _Fuck,_  he wanted her bare hands out. He continued to glare at her, challenging her to resist him, but she was in too deep now. She wouldn’t resist. She could feel a dark pleasure in the game they were playing pulse through her body, and she was eager to experience the release of tonight’s tension, but only after he allowed her to do so.  
  
One by one, she brought each of her hands up to her lips and loosened the leather against her fingertips with her teeth. The gloves dropped to the alleyway floor and she immediately resumed her ministrations, pinching her nipples hard with the bare skin of her fingers. She threw her head back at the unexpected pleasure of it and felt a fresh surge of wetness between her thighs. She heard Wolverine sniff the air and then growl in approval.  
  
“Fuck, I can smell how wet ya are from here. Tell me. You like touchin’ yerself for me?”  
  
Rogue didn’t hesitate. She nodded and unconsciously thrust her hips forward, seeking more.   
  
The girl must have nodded too, but Rogue had developed tunnel vision. Her eyes were locked on Wolverine. He held her in his thrall. His eyes, his movements, his breathing. Rogue was attuned to his entire body. She saw the sweat begin to bead at his temples, the flaring of his nostrils as he took in the scents of their bodies surrounding him.  
  
“You want more, baby?” he ground out as he slowed the pumping of his hand and wound one hand in her hair.  
  
_Oh, fuck yes._  Rogue nodded eagerly.  
  
“Yeah, Wolverine. I want more,” the redhead crooned up at him.  
  
“Good,” he growled back. “Stand up for me.”   
  
The girl rose up, eager for more. Rogue merely continued to roll her nipples between her fingers as she waited for the next command.  
  
A quick stab of jealousy pierced her as Wolverine bent down to taste the girl’s nipples and she heard the moan of her pleasure sound throughout the darkness. His eyes were closed as he licked, sucked, and bit the girl’s breasts, but he flicked his head in Rogue’s direction, clearly wanting her to come up with something for her to do with herself. The slight burn of shame she felt was outstripped by the raw need running through her, and she acted without thinking. She bent her own head down and pushed her right breast up to her lips. She bit and suckled her nipple, enjoying the white bolt of pleasure that made a line directly down to her womb.   
  
A feral growl rushed over her skin and she opened her eyes to find Wolverine staring at her, even as he flicked the girl’s nipples with his tongue. She echoed his movements, and he bit down on the girl hard in response, who cried out with the pleasure of it. Rogue heard her own low dark cry of longing beneath the girl’s cry, and she knew he heard it too.  
  
Wolverine roughly pushed the girl away from him and his voice was rough with lust at his next command.  
  
“Take off those pants. Ruck ‘em over your hips so they’re down by your ankles.”  
  
A shudder of longing went through Rogue. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. If she obeyed him now, she’d be bare-assed and dripping wet in an alley. She could be arrested. The thought thrilled her as much as it shamed her, and she moved her hands to the zipper at her right hip, unable to help herself. The leather of her pants pooled down at her ankles and she waited, breasts heaving in the moonlight. Eager. Waiting. The coolness of a light breeze caressed the curls between her legs and she bit her tongue in longing. She could smell her wetness and her sex, could feel the rush of warm liquid between her legs. God, she  _wanted._  
  
“The panties too, baby. I want you bare for me,” he rumbled to the girl.   
  
His words caused a wave of heat to flood Rogue’s belly and she felt the pace of her breathing increase. She found herself pleased too, that he hadn’t needed to tell her to remove her underwear.  
  
“Finger yerself,” he ordered.  
  
Both Rogue and the girl hesitated slightly and he growled low in warning at their resistance.  
  
“Do it,” he barked, his voice tight with warning. “I wanna see those fingers dip inside, wanna see them come away wet and dripping and ripe with want. Wanna smell them on the air and taste yer nectar on my tongue.”  
  
_Fuckfuckfuckfuck._  Rogue shut down the last of her resistance at his words and obeyed. The hot slick slide of flesh met her finger and she groaned low in her throat at the pleasure of it. She was to the point where she didn’t care if the girl knew she was there or not. She just wanted Wolverine to keep telling her what to do. To bring her to the shuddering peak and make her fly over the edge. The slow wet thrusts of her fingers were building something hot and dark inside her. She could feel it with every smooth slide of her finger. His eyes were staring hungrily at her now, watching the finger disappear between her legs. She wanted him to see more, wanted him to see everything, and she opened her legs wider for him. She knew he could see her wetness, see the pink lips of her sex as her finger disappears inside. She rubbed her thumb hard over her clit and arched her back hard against the wall as a searing bolt of pleasure shuddered through her.  
  
“Taste,” he commanded suddenly, his fist pumping more wildly over himself now as he continued to watch them both.  
  
The girl shuddered and paused, but Rogue didn’t hesitate. She ripped her finger from her center and sank it inside the hot dark of her mouth. She rolled her tongue over her wetness and inhaled appreciatively as the sweet and briny scent of herself reached her nose. She could see his nostrils flaring at the wild site of her and she found herself curling up one corner of her mouth in response to his reaction.  
  
He was beyond words now. He reached out to the girl and turned her around roughly as he kicked her legs apart and bent her over a wooden crate where he thrust inside hard, seating himself fully inside the girl.  
  
Another dart of jealousy ran through her as she heard the girl’s grunts of pleasure at the force of his thrusts. The girl was full of his hot thickness. And she was not. She felt the hot prickling of tears at the corner of her eyes and defiantly pushed two fingers back inside herself, thrusting in time to the movement of his hips, pressing hard on her clit as he bent forward to bite the girl’s neck.   
  
He was a pure animal now. Rutting. Pumping hips moving faster with the undeniable force of nature’s instincts. She could hear his grunts of pleasure as he sought his release inside a hot, warm, wet, and willing female.  
  
Rogue whimpered, need blazing so hot and fast beneath her skin that her vision started to darken at the edges.   
  
The loud bleeping alert of her cell phone echoed suddenly in the alley, and Rogue felt the blood drain from her face.  _Now?_  Her fucking ride was here  _now?_  She couldn’t stop though. She was too close. And despite the shrill shriek of surprise from the redhead ringing unpleasantly in her ears as she realized they weren’t alone in the alley, Rogue continued to pump her fingers in and out of herself, eyes catching Wolverine’s as he too ignored the redhead, his thrusts becoming more erratic, the animal demanding an outlet to the violence that raged within. She felt the friction building, her legs trembled with the effort to remain standing as the wave crested higher and higher inside of her. Suddenly she heard the roar of Wolverine as he came, and the sight of him losing his control sent her flying. The wave crashed down on her and she had no regard for the noises that issued from her throat. They were raw, primal, and true, and her hips bucked erratically as the pleasure forced itself outward, pulsing hard with the beating of her heart.   
  
Another loud beep sounded from her phone and Rogue forced her shaking legs together as she pulled up her leather pants, thrust her breasts back into the confines of the corset, and strolled right past Wolverine and the girl. He gave her a feral grin as she approached, even as the girl beneath him started coming beneath his still pumping body, her breathy shrieks echoing loudly in the alley. Apparently, she didn’t care that much to find she wasn’t alone with Wolverine.  
  
The slick wetness was thick between her thighs and she saw him inhale sharply as she passed him, legs wobbling slightly as she continued to feel the pleasurable pulsing of her release echo through her body.  
  
She saw the marked car just at the mouth of the passageway and slipped inside, giving the driver directions back to the mansion.  
  
_Christ,_  she thought, pushing back a few loosened strands of hair out of her face with a shaking hand.  _What the fuck was that?_  
  
An unbidden voice rose up in the back of her mind.  _Looks like ya got yer wish, kid._  
  
_Yeah?_  She marked back, testily. Now was really not the time for her inner Logan to pipe up.  _And what wish was that, exactly?_  
  
Ya got to see the Wolverine pound some flesh tonight.  
  
Shut. Up. She hissed in response.  
  
A quiet sniff of amusement was all she heard as she headed back toward the mansion in the dark interior of the car, trying to ignore the blissful feeling of peace that settled over her body for the first time in years.


	2. Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A juvenile game forces a confrontation between Rogue and Wolverine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say the next chapter would be up in a day or two? I meant a month or two. Ugh. Real life kicked me pretty hard in the face over the past few months. Massive project and tons of traveling for work, moving for the third time this year, and writers block the size of Mount Rushmore. HUGE shout out to @englishmajor226 for not only agreeing to beta this bad boy, but as acting for a source of inspiration, motivation and encouragement. <3<3<3 Please go forth and read her stories here: http://archiveofourown.org/users/englishmajor226/pseuds/englishmajor226

It was the group gatherings that were the worst.

Rogue knew her teammates had never fully forgiven her for taking the cure. Their disappointment with her choice was always there just under the surface, coloring her days with bitterness and her nights with regret. If she had known then the ramifications of her decision then, along with the eventual outcome of her experience with the cure, she would have chosen a different path; she would have stayed to fight at Alcatraz. And maybe she might not have lost so many friends, or the respect of those who remained.

Still, Rogue continued to try. She wouldn’t be able to look herself in the face if she didn’t try. It wasn’t who she was. But that certainly didn’t make it any easier. Especially on nights like this. She was feeling restless. Edgy. Brazen. And she wanted something to happen to break the tension she could feel building inside her. It wasn’t unlike that night after the lab mission where she’d eased the suffering of that small golden haired feral girl. She shuddered imperceptibly at the memory of that night in the alley and shoved the mental image of Wolverine’s rhythmically rutting hips aside with difficulty. The image of _that_ was forever emblazoned in her mind’s eye.

It was Jubilee’s birthday and she’d wanted to spend it at the bowling alley of all places. Rogue hadn’t wanted to go. These sorts of outings always seemed to end in couples pairing off, with Rogue following along as a third or fifth or seventh or whichever-the-hell-odd-number-you-wanted-to-call-it wheel. Kitty and Bobby. Jubilee and Remy. Hank and Ororo. Pete and Lorna. Kurt and Clarice. And Rogue. But tonight was Jubilee’s night, and Rogue couldn’t say no to that firecracker on her birthday, let alone any other day of the year. And, clearly Jubilee was trying. So Rogue would try too.

Logan also rarely joined in when there was any kind of get together, and tonight was no exception. He’d merely raised one eyebrow at Jubilee’s announcement that they were going bowling, clamped a cigar between his teeth and headed out to the garage with a, “Find me if ya decide to have some real fun,” echoing in the entry way.

Despite her initial misgivings about joining in the festivities, Rogue found herself having a surprisingly good time. The beer had been flowing at the bowling alley and she hadn’t had the misfortune of being the worst bowler - that honor belonged to Bobby - and the couples hadn’t been too couple-y. It had almost felt like it used to before everything changed. Rogue still got annoyed that the tips of her gloves got caught in the ball holes, causing more than just the occasional gutter ball, but still. It was a good night. 

After several rounds of games in which the entire lot of them played progressively worse, the remainder of the X-Men, minus Logan, fairly blitzed on cheap bowling alley beer, headed back to the mansion and continued the celebrations in the common room. After stumbling over a nonexistent wrinkle in the rug by the pool table, Jubilee had cried that beer pong and a game of quarters was in order. The atmosphere was loose, fun, and leaning towards rowdy, with no real hints of the standard undertones of animosity Rogue usually felt. But after several hours of more drinking and games, Rogue felt the first press of unease from her friends at Jubilee’s latest request for their post-bowling festivities.

“Jubilee -” Rogue started.

“C’mon, Roguey! It’ll be fun!” 

“It’ll be dead!” She quipped back. “How old are you again now?” Rogue asked her, frowning into her red plastic cup.

“Hey, chica. A girl only turns twenty-six once. It’s my birthday, and this is what I want. You going to be the one to tell the birthday girl no?”

Rogue just shook her head and sighed. “Hell no. But I think I _will_ head up to bed. I’ve had enough to drink. Besides, uneven numbers,” she muttered glancing around at her teammates.

“Rooooooogue,” Jubilee whined. She apparently had enjoyed the effects of enough beer and shots of tequila to forgo her usual plethora of excessive wording and instead settled for one long drawn out syllable. 

Rogue rolled her eyes and smiled at her, but still. There was no way she could play. “Jubes, I can’t. You know I can’t. And nobody here wants to play with me.”

“I’ll play with ya.” A low, deep voice sounded past Rogue’s ear and she shivered in recognition.

“Oh, Wolvie!” Jubilee cried. “Really? It’d make my birthday! And if we pair up, I promise I won’t you know,” she made a quick motion with her fingers, “Pfft you!”

“Hell, I told ya to come get me when you guys wanted to have some real fun. And this,” he said with a leer, “Sounds real fun.”

“Really,” Rogue said, sarcastically as she turned around to face Logan. She took a moment to take in his appearance before answering. A fresh cigar was rolling between his fingers, and his hair was slightly damp from a fresh shower. Though, she thought frowning, it looked like he’d thrown back on the same clothes he’d worn while in the garage. “Playin’ seven minutes in heaven with a buncha drunk superheroes sounds like fun to the Wolverine?”

He gave her a charged look over the top of Jubilee’s head and Rogue felt another shiver run through her.

“Yeah. Sounds kinda dangerous,” he said with a low growl. “Sign me up.”

Two months had passed since that night in the alley. Two months worth of restless nights reliving the most intensely arousing moment of her life. Two months of trying to tamp down the urge to follow Wolverine to another bar and do it again. Two months of avoiding Logan’s gaze, a task which had been next to impossible given the increased missions that had sprung up. Neither one of them had spoken about or hinted at what had transpired between them in that alley. And she’d noticed that Logan hadn’t been wandering away from the mansion as often as he used to before that night. But she’d been here before. She wouldn’t allow herself to hope. She wouldn’t let herself believe his presence was due to anything other than the more frequent number of excursions they’d had to deal with. 

But with his abrupt appearance in the common room, Rogue had a feeling that the stalemate they’d engaged in was about to come to a head. She was looking forward to it as much as she was dreading it. 

“Fine,” Rogue ground out. She didn’t know if it was related to the amount of alcohol she’d had tonight, or if she was just enjoying the feeling of toeing that line of recklessness she’d noticed lately, but she felt herself give in to their unspoken truce. She knew that whatever line that had existed between her and Logan was gone. And had _been_ gone the moment she made the decision to stay in that alley and let Wolverine tell her to what to do to herself while he fucked another woman in front of her. The difference now was that she was acknowledging it. “Fine,” she repeated as she turned back to face Jubilee. “I’ll play. But you don’t get to be mad at me if I ruin your birthday and kill someone.”

Jubilee let out an ear-piercing squeal of excitement and clapped her hands together rapidly before rummaging through one of the cabinets that lined the far wall for some scrap paper and pens. “’Kay! Everyone write your code names down on these,” she said as she stumbled around the room to hand each one of them a piece of paper. “And them put ‘em in here.” She held up a pair of presumably unused red cups and placed them on the edge of the table they’d been using for beer pong. “Guys in one, girls in the other.”

One by one, everyone scribbled their name down and dropped it into the designated cup. Rogue wrote down the only name by which everyone in the mansion knew her by. Everyone except Logan. He was still the only one who knew her real name. She folded up her piece of scrap paper where “Rogue” was written in a slightly untidier scrawl than usual and added it to the women’s cup. 

With an unnecessarily dramatic flair, Jubilee retrieved the guys’ cup and shook it to mix up the names. Rogue could feel her heartbeat pounding with anticipation. Who would have the misfortune of being paired up with her? She surveyed the males present, mentally sizing them up and trying to decide who she wouldn’t mind being matched with. She absolutely couldn’t picture any time in the closet with either Kurt or Hank. Both of them felt too damn familial. She definitely wouldn’t mind spending some time in the closet with Piotr. She had always thought he was good looking, and maybe with his metallic form she wouldn’t be able to hurt him. 

Remy on the other hand, was a smooth, handsome, cocksure bastard who flirted with anything that moved, herself included. But if she was being honest, she could say without a doubt that she wouldn’t mind being enclosed in a small dark space with him. Plus, Remy hadn’t been around her or the X-Men before Alcatraz, and she didn’t feel the same sense of disappointment coming from him as the others. She had a feeling he was one of those people who pretty much didn’t judge you for your past mistakes, seeing as he’d made several of his own. She could see it all too easily - his smooth accented voice falling over her as he moved closer. His strange eyes glowing in the darkness as he pressed his lips against hers.

She was startled out of her ruminations by Jubilee’s announcement. 

“Lucky guy number one,” Jubilee called out as she unfolded a piece of paper, “Iceman!” 

A round of whistles and lewd comments followed Bobby as he stepped forward, blushing slightly. Or, Rogue squinted slightly as she took a closer look at him, not blushing, but flushed from too many shots of tequila. She snorted slightly under her breath as she recalled what kissing an inebriated Bobby had been like. Kissing Bobby had never been a pleasant experience to begin with; their experiments with her skin and his ice form had been damp and cold and frustrating. But if any alcohol was ever involved, he’d stubbornly insist that he’d be fine, Rogue would insist that he _wouldn’t_ be, and she would eventually give in, kiss him, and then spend the next hour forming intricately shaped ice crystals as she waited for him to regain consciousness.

Jubilee reached for the girls’ cup and Rogue found herself holding her breath. _Please not me,_ she begged silently to any supreme deities that might overhear and take pity on her. 

When Jubilee announced Storm’s name, Rogue let out a sigh of relief. She almost pitied Ororo for what she was about to encounter. But she was damned glad it wasn’t her that had to spend the next several minutes in Bobby’s chilly embrace.

As Bobby and Ororo headed into the small coat closet that adjoined the common room, Rogue’s eyes flitted around the room trying to find something innocuous to focus on. After writing his name down, Logan had taken a couple of rapid shots of whiskey and settled against the far wall facing the entrance, arms crossed at his chest as he surveyed the scene. There was music playing in the background, the previous upbeat rock party groove having changed to a slower more sensual tune with bass thrumming through the floorboards and into the soles of her boots. She felt the pulse of the beat echoing along her skin and suppressed the desire to raise her hands up as she rolled her hips in time with the music. _Jesus._ What was with her tonight? Too much booze? Or was it something else? 

Instead of giving in to the sudden urge to dance or analyzing her mindset further, Rogue instead headed over to the sideboard and poured herself a shot of tequila. She threw it back and bit down on the wedge of lime, even though she didn’t need it. Don Julio 1942 wasn’t normally a tequila used for shots, but Rogue didn’t feel like savoring the caramel and vanilla overtones tonight. No. She wanted it for its effects more than its flavor.

Jubilee read out the next two names to head into the closet, and Rogue realized she’d been rolling her empty shot glass between her fingers for the last seven minutes, swaying to the beat of the music. Colossus and Blink moved forward with identical grins on their faces. _Damn. I really wouldn’t have minded being hooked up with Pete._ As the couple headed into the open closet, Rogue felt her chest constrict with anxiety as she surveyed the guys who remained. She counted them off one by one. Kurt. Hank. Remy. 

Logan.

She took another shot of tequila as Pete and Clarice enjoyed their time in the closet and she felt a slight easing of the panic that had gripped her a moment ago. It would be fine. She would just explain to whoever she was paired up with that they’d have to stare at each other awkwardly for seven minutes. 

_Or, you could leave._

The sudden thought echoed quickly through her mind, and she wasn’t exactly sure who had said it. Was it her? One of the others? Other than the girl at the lab, Rogue hadn’t absorbed anyone for years. As time had passed, she couldn’t tell whether or not her ability to subdue the voices was due to her slowly learning a semblance of control, or if time was simply causing them to fade.

She waited, frozen, as she strained her senses for any more opinions on her current circumstances. When none were forthcoming, Rogue took a third shot as she debated the suggestion. If she left, everyone here would be guaranteed to walk away unharmed. The same could not be said if she decided to stay. But if she left, she’d likely end up in her room, alone, pondering what could have been and regretting not taking a chance at belonging.

“You still with me, chica?” Jubilee had sidled up to where Rogue was leaning against the sideboard frowning into her once again empty shot glass. 

Rogue’s lifted her head up slowly as the room spun around her. She focused on Jubilee’s dark eyes as she answered. “I dunno. I don’t wanna hurt anyone, Jubes,” she said softly.

“Have a little faith, Rogue. Why would I want to ruin my own birthday by havin’ you kill someone?”

“’Cause you’re nuts,” Rogue quipped back.

Jubilee grinned back at her, unfazed by the comment. “Nah. Hiding a dead body’s too much trouble. Trust me. You’ll be fine.” The timer on Jubilee’s phone buzzed then and she strode over to rap loudly on the closet door. “Alright, Petey and Blinky. Make yourselves decent and get the hell outta there. Let another couple have a chance at heaven.”

Rogue shoved a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she snuck a quick glance at Logan. He hadn’t moved and was still leaning against the wall, his eyes focused on her with an unnerving intensity. She jerked her eyes away from his, unsure as to what to make of that look and instead watched Jubilee pick the next set of names. “All right my fellow X-ladies. Who’s the next lucky guy gonna be? The loveable Kurt? The sexy Cajun? The cuddly furball? Or Hank?”

That comment earned a laugh from everyone in the room with the exception of Logan, who merely raised one eyebrow as he tossed back another shot of whiskey. 

With a smile, Jubilee drew the next name out of the guys’ cup. “Looks like it’s Gambit’s turn.”

Remy strode forward, his usual cocky grin on his face as he stood next to the open closet door facing the rest of them. His eyes swept over the room resting on Rogue’s for a quick wink before moving on.

Rogue felt her pulse jump. If she didn’t get chosen to be with Gambit, it would be either Kurt, Hank, or Logan. And all of those encounters would be awkward in their own unique way. She should just leave. She wasn’t strong enough to go through with this. But despite her wish to leave, she found her feet stubbornly remaining exactly where they were. In front of the tequila.

Jubilee reached for the other cup and gave it a quick shake before plucking the next name from it. She hesitated for a moment as she unfolded the scrap paper and Rogue thought she heard a growl emanating from the direction of Wolverine. But he was motionless as she whipped her head around to glance at him, and she decided she must have imagined it. She knew Logan wasn’t overly fond of Remy, but had never really understood the reason for his animosity. 

Jubilee smiled and cleared her throat to cover her hesitation at reading off the next name as she stuck the crumbled piece of paper into her back jeans pocket. “Pucker up and buckle up, Cajun. You’re in for a wild ride with _moi._ ”

Rogue noticed Remy’s eyes blazed for a moment, but whatever emotion he experienced was quickly extinguished with another of those grins as he held out his hand to Jubilee with a smooth, _“Après vous, chère.”_

Rogue took another deep breath as she placed her gloved hands on the sideboard. She watched Jubilee saunter into the closet and close it behind her with a bump of her hip. The squeal of Jubilee’s laugh met her ears and Rogue relaxed slightly. She could do this. It was just a game. A friendly game.

Before she knew it, Kurt was sheepishly heading over to knock on the closed closet door to interrupt Gambit and Jubilee. Jubilee stumbled out of the small room looking thoroughly pleased with herself. Her face was flushed and she quickly smoothed down her shirt while giving Remy a lascivious wink as he followed out behind her, grinning, his cloak billowing out behind him.

“Alright, guys and gals. Not sure anyone’s gonna do better than what just went down in there, pun _absolutely_ intended,” she laughed, “But let’s see what the rest of you’ve got.” 

She took her time unfolding the piece of paper she’d drawn from the cup and with a quick smile in Rogue’s direction announced the name of the next guy to head into the closet.

“You’re up, Wolvie.”

_Oh god, oh god._ Rogue thought. _Please._ But she didn’t know what she was pleading for.

“And who’s our lucky gal? And I do mean lucky. Just look at him!”

“Jubilee, c’mon! Who is it?” Kitty had piped up from where she lounged on one of the couches and Rogue shoved down the sudden violence of jealousy as she thought of Logan in the closet with Kitty.

“Alright, alright. Hold your horses Kit-Kat. The very lucky lady is,” Jubilee fumbled with the paper and Rogue held her breath.

“Rooooogue.”

_You’ve got to be fucking kiddin’ me._

Rogue didn’t know if she was pleased or pissed at being paired up with Logan. She knew that they needed to talk about what had happened, but this really didn’t seem like the proper venue to discuss her sudden foray into voyeurism and a stint into mild BDSM.

Logan didn’t say anything, but gave her a salacious grin as he strolled easily into the waiting coat closet, one arm held up inviting her to follow.

She clenched her fists at her side and strode in after him. Fuck being afraid. If they were gonna have a confrontation, she was sure as shit going to bring her A-game to the brawl.

The door slammed behind them and Rogue could hear the lewd taunts and comments easily through the gap beneath the heavy wooden barrier. The, “Don’t suck him dry, chère!” comment from Remy was particularly unsettling, and Rogue shivered. The room itself was barely large enough to accommodate one person, let alone two, and Rogue found herself uncomfortably close to Logan. Even without touching him directly, she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. She tried not to react to the nearness of him, but just like in that alley, she was helpless to resist. He held in his thrall as easily now as he had then. As he always had. And it pissed her off.

For several seconds, the only muted sound was that of their breath. 

“So, we gonna talk about what happened in that alley, darlin’? Or are we just gonna go straight fer the touchin’?” 

His voice was low and deep in his chest, and she could feel the vibrations of it dance along her skin. “What happened to ‘kid’?”

He snorted. “You ain’t a kid anymore. Not after what you saw. Not after what you did. Not after what I did,” he said, the leer plain in his voice.

She didn’t know how to respond to that. It was true, certainly. She wasn’t a kid anymore. Although unlike what Logan thought, she hadn’t been a kid since the day Erik had forced her into that fucking machine. It was apparent that up until that night two months ago, he’d still thought of her that way. A kid. Someone who needed saving. But what he didn’t realize is that over the past six years, while he’d been off doing god only knows what, she’d learned how to take care of herself.

She was suddenly unsure how to proceed. “I don’t even know why I’m here. I should’ve just stayed in my room tonight,” she mumbled as she tucked one stray strand of platinum hair away from her eyes and stared down at her boots. She was determined to avoid looking at him as long as possible, which was a difficult task given how close he was to her.

“It’s nature, darlin’. Your body is screamin’ out for sex. I can smell it comin’ off ya. You’re fertile and ripe. You want to mate. You want an animal buried deep between your legs, all hot and hard and wet. You want him to rut in you over and over again until he comes in you hard, so hard his seed spurts deep into your womb and runs down your thigh, and you’ll do anything to make it happen. That’s why you were in the bar that night. That’s why you let me tell ya what to do in that alley. That’s why yer here now.”

_Jesus christ._ A hot line of arousal shot straight down through her belly, nearly knocking the breath from her. She was equal parts pissed off, embarrassed, and turned on. And he knew it too if the cocky grin plastered on his face was any indication. He’d known what those coarse and honest words would do to her, and he inhaled deeply as he leaned into her hair, taking in the scent of her body reacting to him.

“Bullshit,” she breathed as she brought one gloved hand up to his chest and pushed him back from her. But the intended force of her denial and attempt to shove him away from her physically was knocked out of her by the ring of truth in his words. How did he know what she wanted when she’d been struggling to understand it herself?

He snorted and grinned down at her, reading her thoughts all too easily. “Your scent doesn’t lie, darlin’. It’s why I’ve stayed away from you before. All those years. Can’t fuckin’ stand to be near you when you smell like this. All luscious and wet, body and blood primed and pumpin’ for a man’s cock. I thought I’d leave ya alone, let you grow up and find someone who’d be willing to play with yer fire. But I ain’t waitin’ anymore. Not now that I know what ya smell like as yer comin’. What yer face looks like when you come down.”

At once, all words in the English language abandoned Rogue. She was at an utter loss for words. Why was he saying all this now? Was it because of that night in the alley? Another reason? Why would he want to stay away from her if he felt like this? _It doesn’t make any fucking sense._ For a second, she thought she heard the echo of her inner Logan start to say something, but when she tried to focus on the words she thought she’d heard, all that remained was a vast silence in the dark of her mind.

Finally after what seemed like minutes of silence, she finally summoned enough words to form a semi-coherent thought. “But - but my skin -” she sputtered, while still not addressing what she really wanted to ask him.

His response was an instant guttural growl. “Fuck your skin.” 

Without thinking she said the first words that came to mind. “You wish.”

He raised one lip in a snarl at her response and he moved so quickly that she didn’t have time to process it. He shoved her against the throng of wool and down coats at her back, encircled her hands with one of his, and tilted her head and pressed his lips, teeth, and tongue against the naked skin of her throat. White hot liquid rushed down inside her, lighting her insides up with shock and pleasure. He sucked and bit at the skin of her neck, dragging his teeth along the column of her throat and then laved away the sting with his tongue. She could feel him sucking and biting her skin in time with her pulse and her body was instantly hot and wet and she struggled to resist the pull of his skin against hers. He didn’t let up though, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the draw begin. First, a trickle, then a fucking firehose of sensation.

She was overwhelmed by the feelings coursing through her where his lips met her bare skin. It had been nearly eight years since she’d last taken Logan into herself and she had forgotten what it was like. Forgotten the extent and depth of his senses. Forgotten the absolute fucking rush of wildness that came along with it. She’d never absorbed him when she hadn’t been dead or dying, and the difference in what she felt was astonishing and addicting in its intensity.

She was at once instantly sober, and more drunk than she’d ever been in her life. This time, Logan’s abilities weren’t busy trying to repair her damaged cells, but rather were working on enhancing them. She could smell the lingering arousal from the other couples in the closet. She could smell Logan. _Oh, fuck._ He smelled good. She could smell the engine grease that clung to his clothes from his time in the garage, along with his usual woods and cigar smoke and soap from his recent shower. But now they were amplified until they filled her up entirely. Should could feel the rush of strength pour into her and she tensed her muscles as the feeling of raw power surged through her body. The touch of his lips against her was magnified and her body became alive. A wild call was sounding through her and she wanted to answer it. 

His thoughts pulsed through her mind with every heartbeat. _Want. Skin. Heat. Wet. Soft. Warm._ She felt Logan sway against her as the rush of his strength entered her and she rocked her hips against his, and growled with delight as his hips shoved against hers in answer. She was suddenly and urgently full of need. He was right. Fuck. He was so right. She needed this, needed the contact of a man. No. Not a man. _Him._

She turned her own head to dive into the warmth of his exposed skin and she inhaled sharply, taking even more of his scent into her. She rubbed her cheek against the rough stubble of his beard enjoying the sting of it before his borrowed healing factor quickly soothed over the burn. She struggled to free her hands from his grasp so she could rip his shirt from his skin and lick a path downward to the hardness she felt at her hip. She wanted to take all of him inside her.

“Whoah. Easy.” He abruptly pulled his lips away from her skin and whatever he apparently saw in her eyes made him swear. “Fuck. _Fuck._ ” He repeated as he ground his jaw and shook his head in attempt to clear the remaining dizziness. 

Without warning, the coat closet door was flung open and Rogue squinted at the sudden brightness of the common room lighting. Her body was throbbing, her senses were on overdrive. 

Jubilee called out a disgustingly cheery, “Time’s up, lovebirds!” and Rogue snarled at the interruption. Jubilee couldn’t have possibly had worse timing.

Rogue felt the eyes of everyone settle on her and Logan, and she felt the hum of his mutation whispering underneath her skin. She could imagine what they looked like. Their hips locked together as Logan held her back against the coats. Rogue breathing hard, her lips parted in a snarl with her hands held behind her back. Logan swaying slightly with the aftereffects of her mutation.

Slowly, he released her hands and stood back from her, looking her up and down, breathing hard. She noticed the movement of every smooth motion of muscle as he breathed and she longed to sink her hands into their warmth. But she didn’t. She merely stood there and stared back, body shaking and chest heaving with the force of her want.

In the meantime, Jubilee fanned herself with one hand as she reached for the cup again. “Well! I don’t know if anyone’s gonna be able to top that, but we won’t know until we try, will we boys and girls?”

With difficulty, Rogue tuned out Jubilee as she looked back at Logan, struggling to reign in the throbbing of her body and the rush of her blood. She noticed his hand move to the inside of his jacket pocket and felt the blood drain out of her face. 

“Thought ya might want these back,” he growled quietly.

When Rogue reached up for the pair of black opera length gloves she’d dropped in the alley, her face burning with embarrassment, he jerked them away from her outstretched fingers before she could retake possession of them. Instead, he looked at her with dark eyes, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Logan. Please.” She said simply, mentally exhausted from what had just transpired between them.

He clenched his jaw and slowly extended one of the silky black gloves toward her outstretched hand.

“Come find me when yer ready for more, and I’ll give ya the other one back.”

And with that, he strode out of the closet and common room and out of the mansion, the sound of the front door slamming behind him.

And feeling more confused than she had in a very long time, Rogue left the stunned silence of the common room behind her as she slowly headed up the stairs to her bedroom. 

She had a lot of thinking to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is partially written, so I think there’s a chance it might be up in a couple weeks. Thank you for reading! Cheers.


	3. Flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly 10,000 words here in the final chapter. I estimate close to 50% of it is smut. So. Yeah. Enjoy!

It was the nights that were the worst.

The call of the animal was harder to resist at night. It was tougher to choke him back. More difficult to resist his draw. Its primal desires were naturally drawn to the moonlight and the chorus of the nocturnal creatures hunting under cover of darkness. It was where _he_ wanted to be most nights. Prowling the wooded grounds outside the mansion, learning the patterns and habits of those other animals who called this place home, and bellowing out into the night to let them know who the true master of the forest really was.

Tonight the call had been too difficult to resist and he’d found himself shunted aside as the animal had taken control and disappeared into the thick forest surrounding the house. _Fuck,_ he thought darkly. _Right on time._ There was a string of days each month where the Wolverine simply would not fuckin’ be denied. And it wasn’t’ any of that goddamn call of the moon werewolf bullshit some of the younger kids thought. It wasn’t even _him_ at all. It was her. He had to leave and be free to unleash the wildness inside him within the comforting embrace of nature, or he wouldn’t be the only one who would regret it. Now, after letting the animal have free rein, he focused on centering himself. He began his practice as he always did, by focusing on his breath. Feeling the bark of the tree at his back dig in with every inhale, he eventually tuned it out as he came back to himself.

Of course, the beast could be placated in other ways besides a tearing through the forest at night. A brutal and savage fight with the smash of bone and splatter of blood. A hard and fast fuck with a warm and willing female beneath him. Both activities appeased the recklessness within him by allowing him to demonstrate his primacy over males and to females alike. And both activities were alternative means to an end. The end being ways to avoid _her._

The animal had few requirements for mating and even fewer for fighting. In a fight, Logan let whatever happened happened, as both he and the Wolverine were disinclined to follow any of society’s rules. A fight was all instinct; teeth and blood and vicious brutal hits. But Logan firmly abided by the mating rules. It was just fucking better that way.

Mating Rule Number One: the female must not be pregnant. There was just no fucking point in well, fucking, somethin’ he couldn’t truly prove his virility to. And besides. Females who were pregnant generally tended to be complications or cause more trouble than they were worth. And when he was looking for a quick fuck, that was the last thing he wanted. 

Mating Rule Number Two: the female had to be willing. He didn’t force himself on anyone. Ever. Rape was for the absolute worst fucking scum buckets that had the misfortune of being born. Rule Two was never an issue for him. He was a lucky motherfucker in the genes department. He knew what his body and attitude did to women, and some men, for that matter. Hell, he could _smell_ what it did to them when he entered a room. He wouldn’t lie. He ate that shit up like a cat with a bowl of cream.

Mating Rule Number Three: the female must not have brown hair. Blond hair. Red hair. Black hair. Hell, _blue_ hair. It didn’t matter. Just. No. Fucking. Brunettes. Logan knew damn well the reason for rule number two, and followed it without question. There was not a fucking snowball’s chance in hell he’d ever break that rule. 

Except that Mating Rule Number Three had been bent just shy of breaking five months ago. 

It was after their last lab mission. It had been one of the worst ones Logan had seen in a long time. The assholes running it hadn’t cared what type of mutant they’d experimented on and tortured. Young. Old. Powerful. Weak. All that mattered was what their mutilated bodies could reveal to them. He’d scoured the hallways of the lab, his mood growing darker and darker with every cell he broke open, with every corpse and deformed body that he encountered. Both he and the animal had remained unappeased, despite the plunging of claws through bone and flesh resulting in a warm bloody spray of vengeance across his face. He’d seen what Rogue had done for the small golden-haired girl whose body had been beyond help, her eyes begging for an end to her suffering. He’d never told her that he’d witness that simple act of mercy. It was an act he deeply admired her for, as besides him, she was the only other team member who had the balls to do what needed to be done. But he hadn’t told Rogue anything about what he’d seen her do. And he wasn’t planning on changing his mind about that anytime soon.

Like the other members of the team, he wasn’t immune to the darkness that descended after a particularly difficult mission. And like the others, he had a variety of ways and means with which to alleviate the crushing soul-rending despair that inevitably followed an excursion like that one. He knew where his evening would take him. He’d head over to the dive on Route 121, find a woman that met the requirements of all three rules, and try to forget . 

But on the jet back to the mansion, he noticed Rogue struggling with the weight of what they’d seen. He wondered what type of mutation the girl’d had. Wondered how much of it had been left when Rogue had absorbed her. Wondered if those gifts were contributing to her bleaker than usual demeanor. But then. Logan had taken a sniff of the recirculated air and understood. He could smell the fear and despair of his teammates, along with the underlying scent of arousal from just about everyone. But Rogue’s scent was even more complex and layered than the others. After another deep inhale, he understood. Her body was reaching peak fertility. Fucking goddamn her. No. Goddamn _him_. He had lost track. And it was his own fuckin’ fault for not payin’ attention.

He’d taken off after Jean. He wasn’t proud of it, but he hadn’t been able to face those who’d remained after what happened. After what he’d done. Chuck, Scott, Jean. All of them gone. And he hadn’t been able to do shit about it. Yeah, maybe he’d wanted Jean, but what he’d really been mourning was, he had realized, the loss of his family. He wouldn’t deny that Jean was attractive. She was confident and mature, and had legs that’d gone on for miles. But he’d primarily flirted with her strictly to piss Scooter off - and god knew he’d loved doin’ that. The affection he’d felt for her was enough that it served as a distraction from what he really wanted, so he forced himself to focus on Jean instead.

That last conversation he’d had with Rogue before she left to go shoot herself up with the cure haunted him. He should’ve told her what he really thought of her decision, instead of pulling that bullshit friend routine on her. He could tell she’d wanted him to say somethin’, _anything_ to get her to change her mind. Maybe if he’d told ‘er she was just fine the way she was, she wouldn’t have left. Instead he’d continued to toe that same fucking line he had since the day he’d met her. His inner mantra kept running through his head as he looked at her. _Too young. Too fuckin’ young. Too young. Too fuckin’ young._ He’d had to prevent the animal within from snarling and reaching out to her, begging her to stay and that fuck everyone else, her skin didn’t matter to _him_. At the time, he hadn’t wanted to know what that was about. The Wolverine did not under any circumstances, beg.

But Logan had kept his mouth shut. And she’d left. And then everything had gone to hell. 

He’d wandered through the wilderness of Northern Canada for months, letting the forests and and lakes and beasts settle into his soul, calming him, reminding him of who and what he truly was. The peace he’d found there was a necessity. He would not have been able to function without it as he mourned the friends and family he’d lost. But eventually, the weight of responsibility had slowly crept back into his consciousness and he’d made his way back to the mansion to help Storm and Beast put the school and the X-Men back together. There were still kids to help, just as sure as there were still fuckin’ criminals who wanted to hurt them.

Logan had been stunned when she hadn’t greeted him when he’d strolled through the entryway. It was the first time since they’d known each other that she hadn’t come flying down the stairs at the sound of his motorcycle in the driveway, deep brown and platinum hair flying behind her, that sweet grin on her face at the sight of him. He didn’t realize how much he’d always looked forward to that brief moment until it hadn’t happened. And then he found out. Not only had she not greeted him. No. She wasn’t even at the fuckin’ mansion anymore. 

He’d tried to press that Jubilee kid for information about Rogue’s whereabouts, but the firecracker hadn’t seemed to think he was worth the information and kept any details she had about where Rogue was to herself. 

Several months later, she’d showed up at the mansion out of nowhere. He’d been unable to repress the thrill of pleasure he’d felt at seeing her again and in a bizarre reversal of their former roles, he’d been the one to tear down the steps to say hello to her and welcome her home.

But Rogue had come back changed. She wasn’t the same. Sure, she’d still smiled at him, but the warmth he used to see in it was gone, and she only welcomed his embrace for a moment before withdrawing from him and turning away to go up to her old room. She was quieter. Sadder. And that was fuckin’ sayin’ something. It pissed him off that she now went out of her way to avoid his presence, since before she’d been one of the only ones who would actively seek him out. A fact which made him more and more pissed the more time that went by. She stopped seeking him for companionship and advice, and he took it harder than he would’ve liked. He wasn’t about to force his company on anyone, so he started avoiding her too. Years passed and she became stronger, a better fighter, a more involved member of the team. Harder. But they never again had that same easy camaraderie they’d once shared for a few short months all those years ago. He’d never even asked her what had happened to her for those months she had been away from the mansion. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

Logan knew the cure had failed, it was common knowledge by then that it hadn’t delivered what it’d promised. At first, a part of him was selfishly glad it hadn’t worked for her. Glad she hadn’t had a chance to get fucked over by a slew of men who weren’t worthy to breathe the same goddamn air as her. But then he’d felt like a piece of shit for thinkin’ that. _What the fuck was wrong with him? He wasn’t gonna touch ‘er so no one could?_ He couldn’t stand to think of what she’d done while her skin had been temporarily turned off. Because he knew what _he_ would’ve done, and it pissed him off to think of her getting used like that. 

But he’d felt worse and worse about that in the last several years. Nearly every one of the adults at the mansion had paired off. That left Rogue even more alone than she’d been before. And he knew that she had been reaching a breaking point. She’d seen the same behavior on that jet after the lab as he had. Knew she was gonna have to find her own way to deal with what they’d seen that night, along with everything else in her life. He couldn’t - _fuck. No,_ wouldn’t let himself picture the ways in which she might deal with the baggage that came along with savin’ the world. He ground his jaw together. _Emotions and lust were high and she smelled like that and goddamn he had to get out of there._

Logan had let out a low growl as she caught his eye when they’d landed. He knew he wasn’t capable of attending a debrief. Not now. Not with her scent in his head and the animal so close to the surface. Without a word he strode up to his room, stripped off the bloodied uniform, showered, and washed away the spatters of blood that laced his hair and skin. He hadn’t taken any damage on this mission, but he’d still been covered in the blood of the fuckers running the lab.

Once he’d turned off the water, he could already hear how some of the others were getting past the events of the mission and he quickened his pace to dress. Jeans. White tank. Belt. Plaid. Boots. Go. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He felt the rumbling of frustration inside him - he was gonna need more than just a hard fuck tonight. The Wolverine wanted, _needed_ blood. He grinned as he flew through the night on his motorcycle, the anticipation of release buzzing in his mind, almost like a high.

He was so wound up when he reached the bar, that he’d barely had a chance to revel in the instant change in chemistry of the female population when he’d strolled inside. A quick raised lip in acknowledgment and he was scouting the crowd lookin’ for a woman who met all three necessary criteria. The first two wouldn’t be a problem. It was Saturday night and a dive bar. He took a deep inhale. There was one, maybe two pregnant women there. He steered away from their direction and focused on rule number three. The second rule had been waived as soon as he’d entered the building. He knew what his presence did to a crowd like this and finding a willing partner wouldn’t be an issue. He shoved aside the swell of disappointment he felt from the beast at the lack of a proper chase, and continued his strut over to the bar. He ordered a double whiskey and tossed back the golden liquid, and quickly motioned the bartender for another. 

Logan allowed his gaze to skitter over the sea of brunettes until he settled on a tiny blond woman at a high top table. A feral grin lit across his face as he surveyed her. She had that sweet kinda innocent look about her, but after one deep sniff of the air he could tell she was anything but. A fact which was validated when not five minutes later he had her back shoved against the brick wall behind the bar and was slamming himself into her in time with her breathy moans. The whiskey hadn’t done nearly enough to take the edge off and he was rough with her. But the slickness and shuddering of her body told him she didn’t mind one bit. 

It was over too quickly. He’d growled into the soft skin of her neck as he’d come and she had in turn shuddered around him before sliding down his body, winking at him as she’d straightened her clothes and headed to her car. _Good_ , he thought darkly. Not only did he not want to smell his release on her, but he didn’t want her to stick around for what was next. Because even that quick and intense fuck hadn’t begun to scratch the surface of the darkness he felt tonight. He tried to ignore how these quick encounters were doing less and less for him, how they were leaving him just as empty and as unfulfilled as before. _Violence_. He told himself he needed to beat something bloody to get past the events of the day. The promise of violence in the cage heated his blood in a different way and he returned to the bar. He gave a quick signal to the bartender that he’d be fighting tonight and then threw back several more shots of whiskey as he waited for his name to be called into the ring.

Logan felt the animal surge forward as his name was announced and he willingly stepped back to allow him control and gave himself over to the beast entirely. Both Logan and the Wolverine preferred it this way. As much as Logan appreciated a good fight, he knew that the Wolverine enjoyed it even more. He reveled in it. Craved it. The animal celebrated the violence of the moment, and Logan knew he too needed the release only complete and utter dominance could bring. 

He rolled his neck, enjoying the cracking and popping of his joints, and without any warning swung a heavy fist directly into the jaw of the other man. He’d heard the crack of bone and felt a deep satisfaction at the explosion of violence. The rest of the flight passed in a blur of hits and blocks and fleeting pain. 

Then. He heard it. 

The low and quiet, but somehow familiar sound of longing. It was a raw, primitive sound and it electrified every goddamn cell in his body with complete and total awareness.The overwhelming scent of arousal that was dancing along his tongue. He smelled that underlying heady sweetness that he’d become so goddamn aware of over the years and felt the immediate reaction of his body. He was instantly hard, a hot and heavy ache between his legs and he felt the wildness of the animal explode further in his mind, desperate to prove himself, to demonstrate his primacy and dominance over this other male who stupidly had chosen to challenge him while she was watching. The animal jerked his head toward the source of this sensory bombardment. She was here. Watching him. Witnessing him prove his strength to others, and to her. A deep snarl of satisfaction lit through him and even the man couldn’t deny the thrill of knowing she was close by.

He finished the fight quickly after that, taking deep satisfaction in every brutal hit on flesh. Snarling as his fists cracked bone and bruises bloomed beneath his adversary’s skin. He stood then, chest heaving and covered in droplets of sweat and blood, his fallen opponent unconscious on the platform floor at his feet. 

He didn’t linger in the cage after the fight. He had an obligation to seek her out and confront her. The animal wouldn’t let that blatant display of raw need go unanswered. He’d seen and heard and smelled what she had implicitly offered and it was well past time that he called her out on her actions. He intended to head straight for the recessed booth where she’d been sitting, but a tall and slender redhead had pressed herself against him as soon as he’d left the cage, smelling subtly of hair dye, perfume, and the slick wetness between her legs, and he’d lost sight of her. His eyes darted frantically around in the crowd, desperate to catch sight of her. He thought he saw her slip out the side door to the alley, but he couldn’t be sure. The fight had worked the crowd into a frenzy of blood lust and the bar was teeming with bodies drunk on the thrill of the fight. 

The man had taken advantage of the momentary distraction to surge forward and shake loose the tight rein of control held by the animal. The man had understood where the Wolverine was headed and told him, _No._ And, _Too young. Too fuckin’ young._ The animal snarled and roared at this. It was bullshit. She was grown. She was alone. And fuck. She was ready, so ready. He could smell it and the scent of her was making him see red as he struggled against the unbreakable grip the man held him in.

But Logan had taken and retained control and the animal had to remain content with the woman who’d plastered herself across his chest, rubbing against him, the implication clear in the gyration of her hips. It was apparent she was taking the hardness between his legs as a sign of his reaction towards her, and not the brunette who’d tried to hide herself in the corner as she watched him fight.

Logan’s blood was thundering in his ears as he wrestled for control. He knew he needed to appease the beast’s feral appetite quickly. He leaned his head down to growl in the redhead’s ear. “Let’s get outta here,” and he led her toward the front exit, ignoring the press and offerings of other females against his body. He had to focus and fuck something. Now.

He led her around the side of the building to the same alley where he’d had that blond beneath him just a few hours ago, and forced himself to respond to her kisses, the touch of her hands on the naked expanse of his chest. He could feel the urgency and violence of the animal threatening to bubble up and he shoved the woman roughly into the brick at her back. He leaned in to taste her skin using his teeth and lips against the smooth and over-perfumed skin at her neck. He thrust against her, the hard length of him bumping against her sex and belly and she moaned, if a bit theatrically for his tastes.

As he thumbed her nipples, he thought he detected that same damn familiar maddening fuckin’ scent of Rogue. He tried to shove it aside, focus on the woman in front of him, but he couldn’t. It was growing stronger. Thicker in the air. Surrounding his senses and fucking driving him even fuckin’ crazier and harder than he’d ever been. The possibility that she was here. Watching him again. _Oh jesus fuck,_ the animal was roaring and ripping against the restraints. He had to know. Had to know if she was close. He jerked the redhead around and leaned back against the brick wall so he could survey the alley.

He ignored the mewling of disappointment from the woman as she felt the cool breeze of the nearly empty alley behind her but he moved to undo his belt buckle and he felt her pleasure at what she thought was coming next. 

_There. She was just there._ Partially hidden by a truck, that hot dark scent of honey between her legs comin’ off so strongly from her he could practically see it in the air. 

She was getting ready to bolt. The panicked beat of her pulse was visible at her throat and Logan struggled hard against the instinctual raging of the animal as he surged forward again and took full control. The beast spoke in a dark commanding growl. “Don’t you fuckin’ move.” Her underlying instincts to obey, as prey to the predator took effect and a feral grin of anticipation lit his face. The man was stupid in his denial. Stupid for denying what was clearly his for the taking. And the animal was going to take as much as possible out of this situation.

He gloried in the commands he issued as the pair of them swirled closer and tighter toward the dangerous peak they were skirting, the redhead nearly forgotten as he focused his attention on Rogue. Her arousal was excruciating in its intensity, the power that he had over her clear with her reactions and willingness to obey.

The man was thoroughly pissed and screaming at him, begging him not to continue. He was scared shitless, not wanting to ruin the only thing he’d ever wanted to protect and cherish. But the animal was done waiting. He’d waited for the man to come to his senses for years and fuck him for not taking the opportunity to make himself whole all this time.

The events were spiraling further out of control and the animal knew he couldn’t take what he wanted. Not yet. He knew when to press his advantage, and when to hold back. And his instincts were screaming at him that if he tried to claim her now, she’d run. And he’d lose her for good. Instead he settled for taking the woman beneath him, maintaining eye contact with Rogue as he came hard into the other woman, his body screaming out for the female he truly craved.

He’d snarled with pleasure as she ran past him afterward, the scent of her climax trailing like a wake in the air behind her. He saw the glistening of the wetness from inside her on her bare hands as she fled, and he nearly reached out to sink her fingers into the hot dark wet of his mouth and savor the taste of her pleasure on his tongue.

The animal loosened his control after that and let the man come back. He’d gotten what he needed to out of this night. He’d started something between the two of them tonight, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before things came to a head. He was comfortable with waiting for the right moment to attack. It was in his nature. He was a predator.

Several months later though, the animal was growing restless again. He hadn’t anticipated it would take her this long to concede. He’d underestimated her, and his respect for her grew even deeper as a result. She was truly going to challenge his dominance, test his claim on her. He was going to have to get closer to her this time. Touch her maybe. And ah, fuck, the thought of touching her drove him crazy, roused the protective instincts of the man. And the Wolverine scoffed in response. The man was being stupid again. He should know by now that he’d never hurt her, even if she hurt _him_ with that unfortunate complication of hers. If she couldn’t control it, they’d figure out a way around it. Sometimes the man’s lack of creativity was disappointing.

He’d declined to go out with the team on the night of the firecracker’s birthday. The bowling alley was no place for what he wanted. Instead, he’d headed to the garage where the man had tried to work through his thoughts on Rogue as his hands had worked on maintaining and fixing engines. He’d always refused to acknowledge his feelings for her. She’d just been a goddamn kid when they’d met, and he wasn’t a fuckin’ pervert. He’d wanted to protect her, and he’d almost failed. When she’d managed to survive the hell of Magneto’s machine, he’d been relieved and thrilled that she was alive, and he’d been determined to leave her alone and let her grow up. But after the events in that alley, he wasn’t sure what to think anymore. She’d clearly wanted something from him. Was she too afraid to ask? Too afraid of her skin? Too afraid of _him?_ He growled at the thought she might be scared of him. Maybe she hadn’t really wanted to participate in that dark game. Maybe she’d been too swept away with the fight and the lab and her body’s instincts to think clearly. He growled as he tightened the wrench on the last bolt holding the Mazda’s engine in place. 

There wasn’t a fuckin’ chance in hell, he thought as he threw the tool down onto the workbench near the wall, that he’d let her be afraid of him. An idea came to him as he rubbed off the engine grease on his hands onto an already filthy rag. The entire crew had returned to the mansion a couple hours ago, the sounds of Jubilee’s party getting louder and louder with every minute. Maybe he’d try and play nice. Be sociable, even as the animal growled at the thought. Mind made up, he took the stairs two at a time up to his room and showered quickly, excited at the chance to get inside her head a little as he showed up to a _party_. She’d never expect it, not in a million years. He toweled off and after a quick sniff, didn’t even bother finding new clothes. His blood was humming with anticipation and he headed back downstairs intent on interrupting the rowdiness he could hear coming from the common room.

He froze just outside though, staying out of sight as he overheard Rogue and Jubilee talking. A feral smile lit his face as he took in their conversation. It was just too fuckin’ perfect for words. The animal had snarled with pleasure as he understood what was happening. _A game, playin’ with the rules. We can feel it out and know for sure._

When he’d strolled into the common room and announced his intentions to join in the game, he’d inhaled deeply, appreciating the thrill of danger and excitement her body was putting off. She was pleased he was here, and scared at the same time. The duality of those feelings echoed his own and he thought that maybe there was a way forward for them after all. It was possible that at this point she was finally grown up enough to appreciate and understand that darkness he had inside of him.

He’d still been unwilling to be too social, and instead opted for several quick shots of whiskey to help dull the thrill of anticipation he felt at the possibility of being paired up with Rogue. He’d nearly lost his grip on the animal entirely when his keen eyes had seen she was gonna be paired up with that fuckin’ swamp rat. He’d have to figure out a way to thank Jubilee for switching Rogue’s name with her own at the last minute. That was some damn quick thinkin’ there. Though at the same time, he was surprised she had thought to act so quickly. He didn’t think he’d ever been obvious in his affections for Rogue, so the fact that Jubilee suspected somethin’ was a bit troubling. But he shook his head at that thought almost immediately. If he’d been obvious enough in his feelings about Rogue that the firecracker had prevented her from being paired up in a damned coat closet with Gumbo for seven minutes, then who the hell cared?

He still didn’t know if Jubilee’s name had been picked to be paired up with him, and he didn’t really care to find out. All that’d mattered was the fact that he was gonna get to spend several uninterrupted minutes with Rogue in a small, dark space. Surrounded by that fuckin’ scent of hers, bein’ close enough to feel the warmth of her skin. Fuck, he was half hard already strolling over to the closet door just thinkin’ about it. 

The animal had come roaring forward as the door had shut behind the two of them. Nearly fuckin’ insane as he breathed in that honeyed and dark scent of her. Shit. Hell. It’d been almost two months exactly since that night in the alley, and that same fertile ripe scent was comin’ off her in waves. He choked back the hold on the animal again, tighter this time, determined to remain in control. Determined not to scare her. He decided to try and open with words rather than pressing himself against her and licking his way down her throat, burying himself in the luscious scent of her, feeling that dangerous creamy skin against his lips, teeth, and tongue. _Ah, fuck. Focus._

“So, we gonna talk about what happened in that alley, darlin’? Or are we just gonna go straight fer the touchin’?” 

Logan could sense her anxiety. He could smell it on her skin, see it in the panicked pulse at her throat and in the way she avoided looking at him. But he could also tell she was excited, and the beginnings of arousal drifted up from between her legs and straight into his head. That scent did somethin’ to him and he couldn’t help but answer her honestly when she’d questioned her decision to be there. And _jesus,_ he inhaled the spike of arousal in her scent as she reacted to his words and almost lost his mind to the animal right then and there. The animal was roaring at him, tellin’ him to take her in the darkened room, the other people close by could go get fucked, to mark her now and show them who she belonged to. Particularly that red-eyed card-playin’ Cajun asshole.

But Logan laid on another layer of chains and yanked hard back on his control, feeling the tension. He wasn’t gonna scare her, wasn’t gonna jump her, no matter how much the Wolverine wanted it. He just needed her to know that he was done playin’ games and avoiding this thing, whatever it was, that was between them, and he needed to know if she was ready.

When she taunted his response to her skin, he felt the chains of the animal snap, the harsh twang of metal forced to its limits echoed through his mind as he was shoved back. Wolverine surged forward and dove his lips into the pale warm skin of her neck, and fuck, he was drunk on her. The sensation of her skin against his after so fuckin’ long was intoxicating. He was drowning in the scent of her acceptance and her sheer need for him. His was throbbing and hard in the confines of his jeans and he almost didn’t notice when the pull began. It was different this time. Instead of an urgent ripping of his essence into her body, it started small and grew into a warm blazing inferno of pulsing pleasure mixed with the agony of pain. All he could think of was the warm wetness that was waiting for him at the junction of her thighs, the scent and feeling of her body thrusting back against him, the smooth velvet of her lips against _his_ skin, biting and making a claim of her own.

He broke contact as he felt the edge of blackness threatening to invade the rest of his vision. He took in her partially opened and damp reddened lips, her pupils dilated with pleasure and swore, loudly. He hadn’t intended for her to take so much from him. But fuck. That look she had, like she wanted to devour him. And goddamn him, he wanted to let her.

Somehow though, she still didn’t understand that he wasn’t playin’ with her, that he was done messin’ around, and he could only leave her with an open invitation to come and find him when she was ready to acknowledge what was between them. He’d left the mansion then, barely holding on to the restraints of the animal once again, needing some space to calm down and get his scent out of his head.

Now, three months after their last encounter, he sat in the quiet dark of the forest, his back against the trunk of a large maple as he continued his meditation. It was something he’d fallen into the habit of after letting the animal have full rein. It helped him find his center again, and come back to as much peace as he could after expelling some of the savagery that lived inside him. He was beginning to wonder if he should just leave the mansion, that maybe she’d decided she didn’t want anything further from him. And if that was the way she wanted it, there was no chance he could be around her anymore. He couldn’t breathe in her scent, see her every day, and know that she didn’t want him.

The sudden sharp crack of a fallen branch had him twitching where he sat. Soundlessly, he rose from the forest floor to turn and face whatever threat was stupid enough to approach him at night. His claws slid out smoothly and silently from between his knuckles and he inhaled deeply. The forest was vibrantly alive and thick with the scent of lush green vegetation, mud, earth, moss. There was a slight chill in the air tonight hinting at the coming autumn, along with just a hint of decaying leaves.

And then, underneath the scents of the woods, _her._

She’d sought him out. Here. In the still, lush night surrounded by nature. It could only mean one thing. 

She was ready.

Logan stepped out from behind the thick trunk of maple and faced her. A nearly full moon filtered through the thick canopy of leaves and cast flickering shadows against her pale face. He couldn’t help but let out a low growl as he looked her up and down, taking in the sight of her here in his domain. He felt his pulse speed up, his skin warm, his blood heat, his body harden. He slid his claws back in with a quick snikt as he addressed her. “Don’t ya know you should never sneak up on me, darlin’?”

Rogue let out a quick burst of laughter. “Course I do. Why do you think I stepped on that twig?”

He snorted in appreciation of her awareness of his underlying violent nature and then waited for her to say something. Anything. He wanted her to admit why she was here and that she was ready to accept him. He’d left the ball in her court after all.

When she still didn’t speak after several seconds, he raised one eyebrow at her inquiringly. “You out here for a nighttime stroll? Or ya got somethin’ else in mind?”

Her chocolate brown eyes drilled into his hazel ones and he felt the charge of her hungry look, even at a distance. She inhaled and let out a slow, deep breath as she took one step toward him and that sweet honey scent of hers wafted gently forward, like she was giving him a gentle touch.

“I’m here for my other glove.”

The animal snarled with approval as the significance of those words washed over him. _Finally._ But Logan couldn’t help but press her for just a little more. He needed to make sure she knew what she was gettin’ into. 

“You sure about this, darlin’? You know what I am. What I’ve done. I ain’t a good man.”

She let the words sit there between them for several seconds as she appraised his body. She let everything she was feeling blaze through her eyes and the animal was surprisingly quiet in Logan’s mind. The Wolverine seemed to be peering back at her and he saw her nostrils flare as she took in the animalistic predatory gaze he knew must be shining back at her. 

She tucked a stray strand of platinum hair back behind her ears and took another step closer to him. He could almost reach out and touch her, but not quite. He curled his hands into fists to prevent himself from extending them out to grip her hips and grind himself into her softness, shoving her back up against a tree and letting the animal have free rein to claim and mark her as his.

“I needed some time,” she began quietly, “Some time to really sort through everything that’d happened.”

She paused and he grunted, nodding at her to continue.

“You have to understand, Logan. Ever since you first saved me all those years ago, all I had of you in my head was this,” she hesitated, hands floundering in front of her for the right words. “This gruff, protective echo of you in my head. He wanted to keep me safe, and he wanted to fuck Jean.”

He couldn’t help the growl that issued from deep in his chest. She didn’t - couldn’t - understand his thoughts about Jean. He’d only been interested for two reasons - to keep from forcing himself onto a 17-year old girl, and to piss off Scott.

The only noticeable sign she’d noticed his reaction was a quick tightening of her jaw, but she took another breath and continued. 

“I always got this sorta hint whenever I’d try to dig deeper into what you thought of me. I’m pretty sure it was him, Wolverine, trying to protect me from your thoughts, because I couldn’t ever really figure _what_ you thought of me other than wanting to keep me safe. And then after Liberty Island, that feeling just kinda got stronger.”

She paused then to look back at him, and he knew he wasn’t gonna like what she said next.

“You let me walk away then, let me go after what I thought I wanted.” Rogue scoffed bitterly and shook her head. “And yeah, it’s probably wrong for me to be upset about that all these years later. But then after the closet,” she spoke in a whisper, but he had no trouble hearing her. “I finally forced my way through that newest dose of your thoughts. Dug around inside your head for the truth. Told the Wolverine to fuck off, that I was gonna figure out what was really going on.” She laughed again, her humor apparently restored. “He didn’t like it. Got all growly with me. But he didn’t stop me. And I think maybe he was glad on some level that I was finally uncovering what was really there.”

She looked up at him again and the love, the goddamn fucking _love_ shining out of her eyes almost gutted him. 

“You’re wrong, you know. You forced yourself to let me go and live my own life when all you wanted to do was take me back to your room, rip off my clothes and fuck me.”

Fire was inside his veins, consuming him from the inside out. Her words were destroying his resolve and the animal was burning with him, roaring for him to act, that he couldn’t take anymore. Logan forced himself to hold back though. He had to let her finish.

“You let me grow up. Make my own choices. Screw up. Come crawlin’ back home. Maybe that’s what needed to happen in order for _this_ to happen. And I got news for you, sugar. You are a good man.”

He couldn’t let her think that. She couldn’t know what he’d done. What he’d wanted to do. “Marie-”

But she cut him off by taking that last step forward, her eyes drilling into his. And then, she was kissing him and every shred of doubt he had about her decision vanished. 

It wasn’t slow or timid. It was hard. Desperate. Wild. She put everything she she was feeling into the kiss and Logan felt the fine tremor of her body against his. The perfume of her slick want enveloped him and made him forget every reason he’d ever come up with for staying away from her. Her lips were soft, her mouth warm and tongue bold. He immediately gripped her hips in his hands bringing her closer, rocking her into his hardness. A loan moan moved through her throat and he growled in response. Logan twisted around so that her back was against the maple, and fuck, he savored every second of contact with her. Knowing that the pull would begin in another moment. He kissed her back, hard. His teeth bit her lower lip and pulled it into his mouth before scraping his beard down her throat to taste the pounding of her pulse beneath that delicate skin. He sucked on her neck and used his teeth, the beast inside exploding with possessiveness when he took in the sight of his mark. He didn’t care if he wouldn’t be able to fully touch her. He was sure as fuck gonna make sure nobody else did either.

He broke away from her skin for a moment to ruck her purple sweater over her head and he quickly tossed it to the ground, still determined to see and taste and touch as much of her as possible in those few precious seconds. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her cheeks flushed with passion, lips swollen from his mouth. Logan pressed her back against the tree by her shoulders and frowned at her. This wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be able to touch her this long without her mutation kicking in. Deliberately flaunting fate, he left one of his bare hands pressed against the cool skin of her shoulder, fingers of the other hand brushing against the delicate collarbone, the elegant line of her jaw. When he met her eyes, she was smiling.

“How -” he began, awe and delight and pure fuckin’ pride running through him.

“I’ve been workin’ on it for a long time. It’s not perfect. I can’t hold it off forever before it gets too much. But yeah,” her smile lit up her entire face. “I can touch.”

“Holy shit,” was his only response. 

She grinned wider as his reaction and said, “I did a lot of thinking about when you touched me, you know, in the closet, and how it took longer than I thought it would for my skin to turn on. And then I just worked at it. Every day.”

“Why didn’t ya tell me, kid?” Logan growled at her, surprised she wouldn’t have told the team of this development.

Her laughter rang out in the dark of the forest. “Logan, you ever think that maybe _this_ was my way of telling you?”

He couldn’t help the stirring of the animal at her words. He could touch her. All of her. And just like that, Logan was shoved aside, the instincts of the beast took over. He snarled his pleasure and delighted in the fierceness of the gaze that was directed back at him. He ripped the green silk bra away from her skin and dove his nose into the valley between her breasts, inhaling that delicate scent of smooth skin, drowning in it. He took in the pale full rounds of her breasts and pressed his hands on the outer edges of the curves and buried his lips against her, tongue laving at the smooth skin. He reached out and sucked hard on one nipple, reveling in her reaction to his body. She hitched in a breath at the sensation and he grated his teeth along the distended peak and she shoved her hips back hard against his in answer.

“Fuck, _Logan_.” She reached for the edges of his own shirt and he complied by ripping it off over his head where it joined her sweater on the forest floor. 

He growled at her and inhaled again. That fuckin’ honey of hers was drippin’ from between her legs and he couldn’t wait to feel her any longer. He shoved one hand down her tight jeans and thrust two fingers inside her, ignoring her shocked gasp and feeling the gush of slippery tightness surround him. A raw keening issued from her throat as he moved within her, feeling her stretch to accommodate him, using his thumb to circle just _there_ over that tight bundle of nerves and she jerked wildly against him. He smoothly slid the fingers in and out of her, over and over, and he took in the increased pace of her breathing, the tension in her body, and he leaned down to take one reddened nipple in his mouth just as he flicked her clitoris sharply. She came hard and loudly, the screams of her pleasure echoing through the woods as her body bucked against his soaked hand. He grinned as he straightened in front of her, withdrawing his fingers, fully aware of how she contracted in fluttering spasms around his fingers, and his cock twitched as he imagined those same contractions around _him_. He moved his damp fingers to his nose where he inhaled deeply while staring into her molten eyes. Her body was shaking slightly with the aftershocks of her pleasure, and instead of drawing his fingers to his mouth to savor that sweet wetness, he brushed his fingers across her lips, at the pulse beat in her neck, and across both nipples before plunging his mouth and tongue across her lips to finally taste her. Ah, fuck. She was sweet and salt and fuckin’ _his_. She joined him in the kiss and moaned as their tongues met and she tasted herself on his lips. Her obvious wildness excited him and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer before he buried himself so deep inside her that she’d never forget what it felt like to be owned by him.

She broke the kiss and he licked his way down her throat, savoring her essence with a quick stroke of his tongue as he continued to her nipples. A hard suck had her grabbing at his muscled shoulders for support. He growled with pleasure at her touch and before he could unsheathe his claws to rid her of her remaining clothes, her hands moved to undo the belt buckle as his jeans. He exhaled with relief as she freed him from the confines of his jeans, easing the pressure. She froze then, as he sprung free, as she took him in. He was red, nearly purple with the force of his want for her, throbbing and thick. She licked her lips once before one slender hand wrapped itself around his cock. A single pearly droplet was leaking from the tip and before he could stop her, she knelt at his feet and took all of him into the hot dark of her mouth. He growled with satisfaction as she tasted the smooth hardness of him. She swirled her tongue around his head, and moaned deep in her throat as she savored him, sucking and licking up every salty droplet that appeared. He couldn’t help the thrusting into her mouth and he fuckin’ groaned at the feeling of her soft palate rubbing his head. He felt the pressure building, that tingling at the base of his cock and forced himself to stop. He wasn’t gonna come in her mouth this first time. He wanted to spill himself between her legs, rub his most primitive scent into her folds and cause her to scream with another release as she raked his back with her nails.

He pulled out of her mouth and picked her up as if she was weightless. “Jeans. Off.” He managed to grit out between clenched teeth. Logan was trying calm the beast, trying to force the animal back. He didn’t want to hurt her, and he’d realized how small and tight she was when he’d been plunging his fingers inside her.

She instantly complied, legs trembling slightly as she stepped out of her jeans and panties and stood before him. Completely bare. Goddamn. She was lovely. Her pale smooth skin seemed to glow in the moonlight that shone through the canopy of leaves. The pink lips of her sex were wet, surrounded by dark curls, and he could only appreciate the fuckin’ miracle of her before he’d gripped her hips in his hands and lifted her against the trunk of a tree. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his torso and she looked into his eyes as the head of his cock was poised at her slick entrance. He circled his hips, spreading the moisture around his shaft and between her lips and she threw back her head as she rocked against him, a raw sort of sound coming from her chest. When she opened her eyes again and nodded, he didn’t hesitate, but drove forward, tearing past the small barrier that proved he was the first. He was the _fucking only one._

 _Virgin. Virgin. Virgin. Virgin._ The litany pounded through his mind with the thundering pulse of his blood, and the scent of copper drove the animal past the point of sanity. A guttural, primal roar tore through his throat as he screamed his dominance and triumph to the quiet dark of the forest. His hips began to piston into her, the slick of her want and blood of her sacrifice easing his way. The man was gone; the beast in control. He snarled as he pressed still deeper inside of her, pleasure and satisfaction and _Jesus fuck tight_ , and the feeling of right and whole inside of her. 

A shudder beneath him and the scent of salt on the breeze forced his throat to seize up suddenly. His hips stilled then as he took in the scents of the female against his body. The man surged to the forefront and the animal was bound once again. She was in pain. Jesus. He’d fucking hurt her. 

“Marie,” he grit out hoarsely. His voice sounded as if it hadn’t been used for days. “Fuck. Marie. _Fuck._ ” He became fully aware of the pulsing of her slickness surrounding him and began to withdraw.

“Don’t.” A cool pale hand reached forward and caught his arm. She seemed to revel in the simple touch when he was clearly overwhelming her elsewhere. She closed her eyes as she spoke again. “Don’t. Fucking. Move. Or I’m gonna lose control of it.”

He obeyed and stilled every muscle in his body, willing himself to ignore the pulsing throbbing heat of her surrounding him. He remained silent, slowly going over her words, as he realized the enormity of what had just happened. She’d been a fuckin’ virgin. And she wasn’t upset with him. No, she had stopped him because she’d been about to drain him while he was still inside her. The thought of pouring himself into her mind while pumping his cock inside her body almost made him lose control again. He shuddered, imagining the pull or her body, milking him, and fuck his soul, it made him even harder. He grit his teeth and waited, feeling the pulsing beat of his heart throb violently in his cock. He had to distract himself while she regained control.

“How,” he growled stumbling on the first thought that ran through his head, “Are you a fuckin’ virgin?”

“Not. Now.” She breathed.

“Yes. Fucking. Now.” he snarled, trying to maintain his slippery control on the animal. “How?”

She rocked her hips experimentally and they both groaned as he slid an inch deeper, as she relaxed her body into his.

“I just never found anyone I wanted enough, okay? We can talk about that shit _later._ ” She was pissed at him, he could smell her anger. Anger mixed with aroused and wet female, the blood of her virginity staining his cock inside her warm wetness and fuck he wanted her so much.

“Tell me what it feels like,” he demanded of her. He wanted to distract her from her anger, have her focus on the sensations of him inside her now that she seemed to have regained control.

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes again. “Full.” He rewarded her with a slow stroke forward and she groaned.

“What else?” He ground out. Sweat was beading on his forehead with the efforts of restraining himself. And soon he wasn’t gonna care if she killed him, he was going to have to rut in her. Fuckin’ explode in her and make her come with him under the light of the stars.

“Smooth,” she said as her inner walls clamped down on him and she rocked forward on him. He shuddered as he withdrew and then plunged back in to the hilt, feeling the coarse curls at his base tickle the entrance to her sex.

“Unngh,” an animalistic grunt left her lips and he could see she was struggling to find words.

“Tell me,” he demanded again 

“Hot. Hard, and ohhh god, Logan.”

He couldn’t make either of them wait another fuckin’ second. He began pistoning again, and the tight slickness of her sex clenched at him. She rocked her hips in counterpoint to his thrusts and he braced one hand against the wood at her back, while the other gripped her ass and ground her closer to him. He wanted to own every fucking inch of her and he felt the pressure building and spiraling inside him and he doubled the pace of his thrusts, the slapping of wet sex filling his ears, the scent of her slippery want filling his head. She was growling things in his ear but he didn’t have the capacity to understand words anymore. His was the language of nature, his words the scent and sensation of willing sex. The female against him was keening out as she came and her head thrust back as her hips spasmed against him, causing him to lose control and roar his release to the night sky. He poured himself into her in long, deep, hot spurts, and they shuddered together as the clenching of her womb milked the last of him and he felt himself emptying his soul into her.

He was sure he blacked out. Whether it was due to the most intense fucking orgasm he’d ever had in his life, or the fact that she’d let her control slip a little toward the end, he didn’t know. But sometime later, cocooned in the damp green of the forest he heard her stir against him.

“You know, you’re not alone. In the darkness.” She murmured against the heated skin of his chest.

He grunted at her, rubbing the silken strands of her hair through one hand while his other arm roved down the smooth skin of her back, marveling at what had just happened. That she was his. Finally.

“I’m there too,” she said. “Fighting through it with you.”

Logan gripped her closer to him, enjoying the blissful feeling of peace that settled over him for the first time in years.

She was right. There were two of them now. And they’d find their way through the darkness together.

_End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! I hope you enjoyed this little story. I had intended for this to be a short, light and easy smutty piece as a break from Dimensions, but dammit this was hard to write! Thank you so, so much to @englishmajor226 for all of her advice and help with beta on the last two chapters. She really helped get me out of a severe writers block, and if there is some reason you haven’t read her work, just stop what you’re doing immediately and go devour Fray, then Twelve, then #allthestories. 
> 
> Now that I’m done with this piece and have my mojo back, I fully intend to pick back up with Dimensions, which, I’m ashamed to say, hasn’t had an update since August. AUGUST, you guys. Seriously.
> 
> Anyway, @englishmajor226 and I are also collaborating on Striking Dissonance, which is just a sheer fucking joy to work on, and the next chapter of that should be up fairly soon as well.
> 
> Thank you for making it through this little rambling session, and thank so much for reading! Cheers <3


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